The hot summer days keep dragging on. We are having the farmer pick plants outside of our fortress grounds, yeilding ten prickle berries, four longland grass, and a stack of four hide root. This makes our grand total of plants sixty-seven with fourty-eight plump helmets. We are, however, running short on wine, I fret that there will be none left at the end of this year. I cannot bear the thought of it. I have been tired of drinking the same old booze lately as is.
My fellow miner told me that he struck aluminum earlier. It really is too bad it is on the other side of the lava channel, I might order the mason to make a bridge there.
In the past, at the mountainhome, I ran into this good fellow who was attacked by a cougar, never was the same again, he wasn't. I am frightened even by engravings of the monsters. I hope they do not stray too close.
Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, I was caught in a cave-in. I do not remember much besides the crumbling noise, but I am told that it knocked me unconcious and broke my right upper arm and wounded my other arm pretty badly. Thankfully, I didn't fall into the channel I was working on, my injuries could have been far more serious. I am afraid that I will be out of service for a while, leaving only my comrade to the mining work.
Meanwhile, the bowyer has been acting as the architect, working on the road. Progress is quick.
It is Autumn, let's check our stocks.
We are all out of wine. I am not happy. This is a problem.
